


long way down

by queertitan



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Assassin's Creed: Syndicate, Canon Trans Character, Clothed Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Subspace, Trans Male Character, jacob frye trying to be cool, minor boot kink, ned wynert being exasperated, spoilers for sequence 8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2015-12-05
Packaged: 2018-05-05 00:22:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5353853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queertitan/pseuds/queertitan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jacob assigns himself a simple mission: seduce Ned Wynert.</p>
            </blockquote>





	long way down

Ned has an apartment overlooking the railway tracks, because of _course_ he does. 

It's an ugly view, and Jacob can't imagine that most people would appreciate its proximity to the rails, given the noise and the haze pouring from the chimneys of the locomotives that chug by. But Ned would rather watch a train go past than see the sun set, rather be woken up at night by the rumble of the wheels and the shriek of the whistle.

His fondness for the view is one of a few things about Ned that Jacob finds hopelessly endearing. It also makes it remarkably convenient for Jacob to jump off his train and come visit Ned whenever he pleases. Jacob usually makes a point of stopping by when he's returning from making his rounds, swinging in through Ned's open window or rapping on the glass until he gets a reply. At first it was just an excuse to see if Ned had any paying work available; by now it's a habit. 

And tonight, it's a mission.

The first time Jacob jumped in through the window, Ned had rather panicked and pulled a gun on him. Said he thought Jacob was an "actual assassin", whatever that means. Now, the window is open more often than not in the evening when Jacob is usually prowling around the city. It seems like an invitation, although Ned has never admitted to welcoming Jacob's company. Jacob likes to believe he can read between the lines.

So on the surface, there is nothing unusual about Jacob dropping in for a visit. When Jacob scrambles over the windowsill and thumps down on the other side, Ned barely looks up from the papers on his desk. "Frye," he says, tapping two fingers against his temple like he's tipping his hat. 

"Good evening, Wynert."

"Thought I heard someone kicking the bricks loose out there."

Jacob scoffs, grinning and brushing the dust from his trousers. "I don't believe you heard me coming."

Ned is smoking idly. He taps ash from his cigarette when he glances up at Jacob. "I'm pretty sure everyone this side of the Thames heard you coming, Frye. Just — no one's figured out how to stop you from getting here." He smiles. He's caught in between the light from the window and the glow of the gaslamp on his desk, the loose sleeves of a white undershirt pushed up to his elbows, dark leather braces over his shoulders.

The fact that Ned is often less buttoned up at home might also have something to do with how frequently Jacob stops by. Seeing Ned without his coat and hat makes it all too easy for Jacob to imagine pulling his clothes off, layer by layer.

Jacob ducks his head so that the brim of his hat hides his eyes, and hopefully his thoughts, from Ned. "Busy tonight?"

"More than usual," Ned sighs. "I've had a lot of incoming cargo, thanks in great part to you and your sister. Got to account for everything." He's even too preoccupied with his paperwork to keep his eyes on Jacob, which gives Jacob the agonizing opportunity to look up and stare at him. In general, the more Jacob looks at Ned the more he likes him. It's absurd. Even after months of knowing the man, Jacob keeps managing to find him more charming each time they meet. Which is how he's wound up here. 

Tonight, he's going to do something about it. 

He tears his eyes away from the cigarette between Ned's lips and clears his throat.

"You're awfully quiet," Ned says, without looking up. He blows smoke toward the window.

"Am I? I must have something on my mind."

"Did you wanna tell me what it is?"

Jacob pretends not to have heard the question, because the last thing he wants to do is explain himself verbally to Ned. Some people — his dear sister and the uncorruptible Henry Green come to mind — seem to enjoy going on at length about their affections. Jacob can hardly string two words together to describe his attraction to anyone, and anyway, he's only barely beginning to adjust to the idea of being attracted to men. Far better to make himself clear through other means, and keep words as a last resort.

He pushes away from the window, strolls across the floor, and drops his coat and top hat on the end of Ned's bed. When this earns him no response, he uncorks the bottle of expensive American whiskey Ned keeps on his dresser and pours himself a few fingers. Being presumptuous is usually a guaranteed way to get Ned's attention. Only by now, Ned seems to gotten used to him. He looks up at the soft clink that accompanies Jacob pouring the whiskey, and barely rolls his eyes at the sight.

"Get me one too, wouldja?"

"Get it yourself," Jacob says. Riling Ned up is easy, and again, it gets his attention. Jacob goes and leans against the window frame, swallowing half the whiskey in one go. It stings his throat, and he coughs a little into his sleeve. He doesn't even like whiskey. But it's all Ned drinks, and Jacob needs something strong to steel his nerves.

Funny that he should even have nerves. He's an Assassin, for God's sake. An actual Assassin.

And yet.

The whiskey burn spreads down his throat and fills his chest with warmth as Ned, shooting Jacob a sour look, levers himself out of his desk chair and then walks over to get himself a drink. Jacob gives him what he hopes is an inviting look, and Ned takes the hint, joining Jacob by the window with whiskey in hand.

"You know," Ned says, "I was thinking — one of these days, somebody I don't want to see is gonna come in through that window and I'll be in trouble." He grins, takes a drag on his cigarette, and smoke coils in the air between them.

"I didn't know you wanted to see me." Jacob smirks at him over the rim of his glass. "And here I thought we were all business, Wynert."

Ned chuckles. "Well, better you than another police raid."

"Lucky they haven't figured out how to climb the building yet."

"If they ever do, I'll bet they at least do it quietly."

Jacob snorts and shakes his head, kicking at Ned's shoe. A comfortable but expectant silence falls between them. Ned gives the whiskey in his glass a swirl, drinks, and finally breaks the quiet. "So what do you want, Frye?" They both smile at his familiar intonation. "Money? Information? Another train?"

"Don't get your hopes up." Jacob gulps down the rest of his drink, which doesn't burn quite so badly now that the lining of his throat is already scorched off, and sets the glass on the windowsill. He slides his fingers up and down the glass. He tugs at the collar of his shirt. "And who says I want anything? Perhaps I enjoy the company. Perhaps I wanted a drink and couldn't be bothered to stop by the pub."

Ned raises his eyebrows. "You wanna be mysterious, I won't stop you."

He turns around and starts walking back to his desk, like he plans on getting on with his damn paperwork. Jacob follows him, hovering around the corner of his desk while Ned settles into his chair.

"Can't I visit without bringing you a job or a list of demands?" he asks.

"I guess you can, but that doesn't really answer the question."

"And... what was the question again?" Jacob pets the spine of the book Ned's got sitting on his desk. Light reading on locomotive engines—what a surprise.

Ned looks exasperated. "Never mind." He reaches forward and puts his hand on a stack of papers, but doesn't pick them up. Instead, he watches Jacob pick up his train book and start flipping through it. Jacob's trying to occupy his hands while he plans his next step. He hadn't really thought things all the way through past jumping in the window and pouring a drink. 

But the feeling of Ned watching him while he pretends to read makes it difficult to think about pesky logistics, anyway. And Jacob has always preferred to think on his feet.

"Did you know that America's first steam locomotive lost a race to a horse?" he asks, glancing up from the book and snapping it shut.

Ned gives him a flat look. "Yeah. I did."

"Oh, of course _you_ did." Ned has started to draw back from his paperwork, as if getting the point that Jacob intends to stay, and Jacob takes the opportunity to sidle in between the desk and Ned's chair. It gives him the chance to lean over Ned, while also reclining against the desk and letting the light from the window catch him at an attractive angle. 

Ned's eyes dart down to the collar of Jacob's shirt. Jacob unbuttoned it a bit more than usual before coming inside, which for him is an unusual amount of attention to detail. If Ned is affected by the exposed skin, he doesn't show it; but then, Ned has a remarkable poker face. Jacob smiles widely at him. "Do you read this to yourself every night as a bedtime story?" He drops the train book on the desk with a thump.

He gets another bland look for his trouble. "You got me, Frye. I like trains." 

"Do _you_? I'd have never known."

"Yeah," Ned says slowly, squinting at Jacob. He leans forward slightly, and oh, Jacob could just kiss the sarcastic set of his jaw. Probably will kiss it, if all goes according to plan. "I don't know what tipped you off."

"Have you always liked trains?" Jacob asks, thinking that it will be easy to follow this up with, _Have you always liked me? Or only since you came to Fight Club and saw me with my shirt off?_

Ned shrugs. "Sure. Used to go on a lot of train rides through the countryside."

What a romantic detail that is. "Are you saying you'd like to go for a train ride to the countryside?" Jacob begins to ask, hopefully, but as he says it he leans back and his arse upsets a stack of papers onto the floor. 

Whatever intimate atmosphere had possibly started to grow between them vanishes as Ned swears — "God _damn_ it, Frye" — and shoves out of his chair. He barges past Jacob, crouching to gather up the scattered mess of shipping manifests, contracts, and cargo inventories. 

"It's just paper, Wynert, it's hardly ruined."

Ned mutters something foul under his breath. "Do they ever have to do paperwork in your world? Any of your goddamn Assassin business involve running an actual goddamn business?"

"I wouldn't know," Jacob says, a bit sullenly. "You'd have to ask Evie. I'm sure she'd be happy to tell you all about Assassin paperwork and its proud history and traditions. I can't say _I_ care for that kind of thing."

"I suppose that oughta be obvious." Ned straightens up with an armful of papers, which he slaps down on the desk. He jumps a little when he turns and finds Jacob standing just behind him, although — he doesn't move away. He rests his hip against the desk behind him and cocks his head back to look Jacob in the eye, arms crossed, fingers drumming on his elbow.

He looks annoyed, mostly. But Jacob wants to believe there's something considering in his eyes, in the way he doesn't look away from Jacob's face.

"You gonna tell me what this is about before you wreck my fucking office?" Ned asks. 

Jacob likes the simmering edge of frustration in his voice.

Unfortunately, being this close to Ned makes Jacob — well — less capable of speech than ever.

"What should it be about?" Jacob says, in a tone of voice that he hopes is charming and teasing. He rests a hand on the desk, perilously close to Ned's hip.

Ned glances significantly down at Jacob's hand, and then back up at his face. "It _should_ be about what you're hoping to get from this," he says, slowly, like he's trying to spell it out for Jacob.

"I told you, perhaps I only want your company —"

"And what does that entail?"

"I don't know yet. It depends on what you want." Jacob allows himself to sway a little closer, enjoying the way Ned's head tips back to follow his eyes. And enjoying the opportunity to remind himself of all the things he likes about Ned's face, from the little dart of his nose to the unreachable dark of his eyes, to the bright round lenses of his glasses, to his mouth, which is currently unamused but so disarming when he smiles.

He is certainly not smiling now, but Ned's voice has dropped a little lower when he speaks again, like he doesn't want them to be overheard. "Just tell me what your game is, Jacob."

The sound of his given name in Ned's mouth makes Jacob's toes curl. He can't look away from Ned's eyes; he runs his fingers up Ned's arm. 

"I'm seducing you," he says, roguishly.

Ned lets out a tiny, irritated breath. "Yeah, I can see that. Why?"

Well, that's not exactly the reaction Jacob was hoping for. 

"Why do you _think_?" he asks, honestly a bit stunned.

Ned raises his eyebrows. "I'm asking you, Frye."

"Oh, we're back to last names, are we?"

"Look, just —" Ned grimaces. "Just answer the question."

"What do people usually try to seduce you for?"

" _I_ don't know!" Ned throws up his hands, narrowly missing Jacob's face. "Money? Information? Another train?"

"If I wanted another train, I'd be in here asking you for it, not —"

"Then what for?"

"For _me_ ," Jacob says loudly, utterly exasperated. "Because I want to. Isn't that _obvious_?"

Ned hesitates and frowns at him. "Then how come you've been batting your eyes at me ever since we met, never making a goddamn move unless you count stealing my whiskey a couple times a week, but tonight's the night when you barge in and make it official? And you're saying that's your only motive?"

Jacob flushes. 

He can't give Ned the honest truth, which involves something like, _I didn't even know I was attracted to men until I kissed Maxwell Roth, and by the way, I kissed Maxwell Roth, right after I stabbed him in the throat._ And _I still don't know what I'm doing and I wish you wouldn't ask so many questions._

"It's because I've — I've finally had enough of playing around," he says. "And tonight I've got a plan," he adds heatedly, despite all evidence to the contrary.

He thinks he catches a flicker of a grin at the corner of Ned's mouth, but can't tell if that's just wishful thinking, because he blinks and Ned is back to looking unimpressed. "Is that so? What's your plan?"

"You are full of questions, aren't you?"

Ned drops his arms from where they had been folded across his chest, letting them swing open. "Just like to have my facts straight, Frye."

"Well, the — the fact is — the fact is I want you. That's it."

Now there's definitely a smile on Ned's lips, small but reluctantly fond. "I never would've guessed."

"Then I suppose I'll have to be much more forward," Jacob says. And he's had quite enough of words. He slings an arm around Ned's waist and pulls him forward, stooping to catch his mouth in a thorough and lengthy kiss. 

Jacob has been told by uncharitable past lovers that he kisses like a happy dog, and to their credit, he does feel breathlessly eager and a bit sloppy. Ned, on the other hand, kisses exactly as Jacob would have expected him to — bruisingly straightforward. Jacob's heart stutters a bit when Ned's hands close on the lapels of his shirt, taking hold of him in a very certain grip. Jacob has wanted this for so long that he feels ready to burst, near trembling with relief as he slides a hand into Ned's hair and feels Ned's sharp chin butt against his jaw.

Jacob squeezes his eyes shut for the entire kiss and for a moment after. Ned, apparently, does not, and is already studying Jacob when Jacob shivers and opens his eyes. "Huh," Ned says, licking his lips. His hands smooth down Jacob's lapels. "Is that the plan?"

"Oh, there's more to it than that." Jacob enjoys the way his words hang in the narrow space between them, the warmth he can feel from Ned's breath. Jacob is still breathing hard, his fingers fascinated by the rough texture of Ned's hair as he combs his hand through it. "I'll show you the rest, if you like."

Ned's eyebrows quirk. "Go ahead."

Jacob doesn't know how long he's been imagining this, how much time he's spent fantasizing, but it has one benefit. This part of his plan, at least, is crystal clear.

He slides his fingers under the taut leather of Ned's braces and pulls them down from his shoulders, letting them hang as he runs his hands down Ned's arms and presses forward to kiss him again. Ned hums with satisfaction at the back of his throat, and his breath hitches against Jacob's mouth when Jacob pulls his shirt free of his trousers and rubs his palm against Ned's bare stomach. Jacob spreads his fingers out, wanting to touch as much of Ned's naked skin as he can, sliding his hand around to the small of Ned's back and feeling Ned shiver like a cat when Jacob strokes his spine. Ned grabs at him, pulling Jacob into him, slipping his tongue into Jacob's mouth and fumbling with the buttons on his shirt.

That's not how Jacob plans for this to go, though. He catches Ned's hands, pulling them away and leaving his shirt half undone. He drops to his knees between Ned's legs.

When Jacob glances up, Ned is staring at him, slightly wide-eyed. Jacob grabs a handful of Ned's shirt, pushing it up so he can kiss at Ned's stomach, and lower. "Jacob," Ned breathes, his nails digging into Jacob's shoulders. 

He still looks at Jacob like he's not asking him to do anything so much as daring him to do what he wants. And what Jacob _wants_ is to undo Ned's trousers, to press his face into the front of Ned's drawers, breathing in the smell of him and nosing at the warmth between his thighs as he yanks Ned's trousers down to his ankles.

He feels absurd for how badly he wants Ned — not just wants him but wants to please him, wants Ned to be pleased by him, so much that just Ned's shiver of arousal makes his body go hot. And somehow, that's what returns Jacob's confidence to him. After all, no matter how he feels, his grand seduction was apparently so good that Ned thought he was being bribed for something. So perhaps this next bit will go equally well.

"D'you get your dick sucked a lot, Wynert?" he asks, and hears Ned draw a sharp breath. 

"Not, uh — not nearly enough." 

"What about all those thieves who work for you, don't any of them fancy you?"

"You know, not nearly enough of them." Ned's voice is husky and full of the barely restrained greed that's always in his voice when he looks at a cache of jewels or a stolen painting. 

Jacob tips his head back and catches Ned looking at him like he's a jewel, too. 

Jacob grins, quite unable to help himself. Ned smiles back, because maybe he can't help it either, then leans back on his hands and nudges Jacob's knee with the toe of his shoe. "You wanna get to work down there, Frye?" he asks.

"If you insist," Jacob drawls, as if his whole body weren't aching for this. He knows exactly what to do, has dreamed about it. He presses another kiss against Ned's stomach, pulling his drawers down; he helps Ned free one leg from the tangle of his clothes so that he can hook that leg over his shoulder, pinning Ned back against the desk. 

He's shaking rather, with excitement, when he kisses between Ned's thighs and finds him slick, hot, waiting. Jacob nuzzles against his clit and presses his tongue all along the swell of it.

Ned makes a sharp, quiet noise, hastily cut off. When Jacob glances up, Ned's eyes are shut, his teeth are closed on his lip and a grin pulling at the edges of his mouth. His head drops toward his chest, and he sinks a hand into Jacob's hair in a movement that seems almost involuntary, like he just needs something to grip.

Jacob turns his head to nose against Ned's palm. "I take it you like where this is going?" he asks, because he can't resist, knowing that stopping will make Ned open his eyes and glare down at him. "Any special requests? While I'm in the area."

"How about this," Ned says, his voice steady — but breathy; his shoulders rise with each inhale. "How about you stop fucking around and get the job done."

"I'm _trying_ to do something nice for you, and this is how you thank me?"

"This is what you call nice?" Ned mumbles, half to himself. For a man with his legs tangled around Jacob's shoulders and a deep flush in his cheeks, he still manages to play it off like he's going along, letting Jacob do as he likes.

Which is why it's so gratifying when Jacob goes back to his task, lapping at Ned with eager strokes of his tongue, and Ned makes the most glorious strangled sound of pleasure. He grabs the collar of Jacob's shirt, yanking at it, dragging him closer. Jacob gladly pulls Ned's leg higher over his shoulder, tipping him back over the desk. He hears something tumble and crash to the floor, papers sliding as Ned scrambles for purchase, cursing Jacob breathlessly.

"Don't you dare try to go and pick that up," Jacob laughs.

Ned manages to prop himself up on his elbows, scowling at Jacob. His glasses are askew. "You're cleaning this up later," he snaps. But his head falls back and he groans low in his throat when Jacob puts his mouth back on his clit. His hips roll forward with each bob of Jacob's head, his fingers snarling in the hair at the back of Jacob's neck. Jacob hardly knows who's pushing and pulling whom. All he knows is that the sounds Ned is making are increasingly urgent and higher pitched, his fingers shaking as he combs them mindlessly through Jacob's hair.

He knows when he's brought Ned to satisfaction by the man's grunt of exertion. There's a sudden jerk of his hips, followed by a long sigh and his legs going slack. Ned's eyes are closed for a long moment, his chest heaving. Jacob goes on licking at him, knowing he must be oversensitive, until Ned hisses and pulls his head back.

" _Fuck_ ," Ned says roughly.

"So that's my game, Wynert," Jacob purrs. 

He feels _excellent_. His own cock is painfully hard in his trousers, but he's only distantly aware of the discomfort; he already feels like his whole body is buzzing with satisfaction, the feeling of a job well done. 

"How did you like it?" he asks.

Ned bursts out laughing, his voice shaky. "I, uh. I might need a couple more demonstrations before my mind's made up." He ruffles Jacob's hair, then slowly smooths it back into place.

Jacob smirks up at him, butting his head against Ned's touch. "Is that right?"

"Yeah. Can't, uh... can't be too sure." 

Ned eases his legs from Jacob's shoulders, sliding down so his feet touch the floor again. He watches with lazy pleasure while Jacob, considerately, fixes up his trousers and fastens them. "I could get used to looking down at you," he says. "Nice change of perspective."

Jacob chuckles. "I wouldn't get used to it, if I were you."

"And why is that?"

"Will you still like me if I point out how tiny you are?"

"That's skating on thin ice, Frye," Ned says, and if he realizes he's just admitted to liking Jacob, he doesn't seem to mind. In fact, his eyes are gleaming. "One more thing," he says. "What are we gonna do about this?"

The toe of his shoe is suddenly pressed to Jacob's cock, giving it a considering rub. And all at once Jacob remembers just how hard he is.

He groans and slides his hands along Ned's thighs, a startled laugh bubbling up in his throat. He's so miserably turned on, in fact, that even through the fabric of his trousers Ned's touch is searing hot. It leaves his skin shivering in the wake. "What do you want to do with it?" he asks, utterly failing to keep his voice even.

Ned rubs his thumb across Jacob's lower lip, smiling. "I've got some idea. Jesus, Frye, did you like doing me that much?"

Jacob gives a shaky laugh, because there doesn't seem to be much point in denying it. "I'll say I did."

"Good man," Ned says. He keeps stroking Jacob with his shoe, a smooth, hard pressure that does little more than make Jacob squirm and rise up on his toes. He _could_ get off on it, and is strangely intrigued by the idea (Ned holding him by the hair, touching his cock with nothing more than a boot, slowly but surely teasing him to an orgasm that would come with aching knees and sticky trousers). But then Ned slides a hand under his chin and lifts it, catching his eye as he murmurs, "Come here." 

He reels Jacob up by his collar until they're pressed together, and then works one of his clever hands between them, grabbing Jacob's cock through his trousers and rubbing the heel of his palm against it. Bruisingly straightforward. Jacob yelps and buries his face in Ned's shoulder, slapping his hands down on the desk behind Ned and bracing himself so that he can easily rock his hips against Ned's grip. It puts him at the right height to kiss Ned, which he tries to. Only he's too scattered; all he seems to be capable of doing is resting his brow against Ned's and clutching at the desk, letting himself ebb closer and closer to orgasm as Ned's fingers stroke him, barely giving him the attention he needs. 

But every touch feels good, and it's completely unlike any sex he's ever had. There's no hurry to finish, no need, no desperation. Just sensation washing over him, overwhelmingly powerful, and the knowledge that eventually it'll hit him, like a wave coming from far out at sea. He feels dreamy, and it has something to do with the way Ned holds him, the fact that he trusts Ned to — to decide what happens to him.

His fingers steeple, nails scraping across the surface of Ned's desk as he groans and arches his back.

Ned suddenly grips him hard, almost punishingly so, and Jacob swallows a plaintive sound. "Don't scratch my desk," Ned says, calm and low. His dark eyes are locked with Jacob's, and although Jacob wants to protest that he can't help it, he's too out of his mind, he desperately doesn't want Ned to stop looking at him like that. He doesn't want Ned to be distracted by anything, let alone his fucking desk or the papers scattered all across the floor. So he forces his fingers to curl in, wraps an arm around Ned's waist instead for support, and shudders when Ned makes an approving sound and goes back to pulling slowly at his cock.

When he comes, it catches him almost by surprise, the crest of the wave catching him and crashing over him as he clings to Ned and stifles a hoarse moan against his neck.

"There you go," Ned says, almost soothingly. His fingers rub circles in the small of Jacob's back, his other hand giving Jacob's cock a final playful squeeze. Jacob groans. 

Dimly, he notes that he's wound up with sticky trousers after all.

"You couldn't have let me undress?" he mumbles. He can't even muster much annoyance, though; all the tension has drained out of his body, leaving him dizzy and pleased.

"I didn't stop you." Ned huffs a laugh. "But like hell I was going to help you make a mess all over my desk. You did enough damage as it is."

"Technically, you're the one who knocked most of it off."

"Don't get smart with me, Frye."

" _Jacob._ "

Ned hesitates, but then his shoulders slump, like he's giving into something. "Jacob," he agrees. And when Jacob kisses him, he doesn't seem to mind that it's a sweeter kiss than before.

"You want another drink?" he asks, when Jacob finally pulls away.

Jacob nods, and he and Ned ease apart from each other, Jacob leaning heavily against the desk while Ned goes away, pours whiskey into both their glasses, and comes back to offer him the drink. Jacob takes it and sips gratefully, swinging an arm around Ned's shoulders as he does. Ned sighs, but leans against him without even a word of complaint.

Jacob scrunches up his face at a sudden thought. "Did you _really_ think I was trying to seduce you for money?"

Ned shakes his head. "I don't know. I just wondered. Figured some part of your train had finally broken down and you couldn't afford to fix it, something like that." Ned elbows him gently in the ribs. "In which case you could've just asked me, for the record. I look out for my friends, especially ones like you — and your sister — who I want to keep around."

"And how d'you look out for your lovers?" Jacob asks, smirking down at him.

Ned snorts. "Let's leave it at friends, Frye. I _hate_ being tied down."

But his grin says something else, and when Jacob loudly insists again on being called by his name, Ned just rolls his eyes and shuts him up with a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> A thousand blessings on my wonderful betas/editors amare and qualapec <3
> 
> Please come scream with me about Ned/Jacob at [fakeandroid](http://fakeandroid.tumblr.com) on tumblr!


End file.
